Russia's little flower
by dubenico3362
Summary: A story about a flawed and lonely country that finally finds someone that cares for him, and is faced with a decision between what he wants and what he thinks is best. Romance contained to fluff. Rated T for adult themes.


Authors Note: I do not own Hetalia, no mater how much I wish I did. The story line was inspired by another Russia + Liechtenstein pairing called "**That girl who seemed so small in my hands**" by lovejonesy.

Also the respective ages of the characters have been switched to 34 for Ivan, and 28 for Lilly. I Might continue If I get enough comments.

**Russia's little flower**

These were not the sunflowers I so often thought of. These were pale, tiny yellow blossoms, like drops of sunlight or little stars against the velvet night. So petite that I had but to tense my gloved hand and all five petals would fall apart. They were not the strong, proud, flowers that stretched towards the skies of my homeland. These were delicate and short, my heavy boots passed through them like hail through a greenhouse. When the sun shone upon them though, they blazed bright in a carpet of light above the snow and the air was hazed with the glow of their smooth golden petals. They were like her Lili Zwingl. That quiet, gentle girl who lit up my eyes and seemed so small in my arms. I did not wonder what she thought of me—a towering man in a long grey winter coat with that scarf constantly coiled around his neck, a threatening figure in this field of silent serenity. With my violet eyes, cream-colored hair, and my quiet, odd smile, I didn't wonder. I thought I knew.

She appeared no different than the others. Shying away when I approached, she trembled when the sun fell behind me and I was thrown into shadow. Trembled when I talked with her again later, she grasped her brother's hand and leaned in closer, closing her clear emerald eyes. Trembled as her brothers eyes narrowed protectively, sharp accusatory belittling words were flying at me like icy arrows fast and sharp. I stood my ground, stood my ground and took them because I had been numbed by a thousand frozen arrows before. Because those hard words were worth the effort of picking a flower to take a piece of her home with me. Worth capturing a star to put in my vast lonely sky. Because one day, one day she'd let go of her brother's hand, and she would remember me.

Unlike all of the others she did not have to guess the cause of my appearances, my depression... Kubali Yuan my uncle and the former man of the house as I had no father, was the start of my despair. In my youth it seemed that if I wasn't being ignored I was being beaten, like a wolf in the woods hunted for living too close. This tough environment cultivated the calloused exterior that I used to cling to just trying to make it through another day. Does not a cactus clings to its spikes. Yet now that my uncle is dead and all my house in peace this tough scarred skin serves only as a constant reminder of dangers past, Like a palace turned into a castle in times of war its battlements and high walls remain a standing testament. An innocent child with a wound on his side who can't completely hide his scars. Most all shun him so that they might remain ignorant to his life's pain and suffering, few ever break off of the group to learn the truth.

Yet even after she let go of her brother's hand and broke away she still trembled when I touched her face. She remembered the safety of her brother's arms and wondered why she ran into mine, I have to hold her gently so as not to hurt her...for I would surely end up breaking her elsewise. I could crush her, like my footsteps crushed the flowers of the meadow and she would be in pain, a curling peony petal in the harshness of winter, so kind, so soft-spoken, yet so easily broken. She surely wondered why she kept coming back with a smile, bringing with her a few precious rays of sunshine to my everlasting twilight. That woman who was so petite I felt I could tense my hand and she'd fall apart.

She seemed no different yet, I could not stop my thoughts. I had come to love her... How could she ever come to love someone so cruel looking? Here was a little beauty, a little Lili, beloved by a scarred loner. I needed her, I was better around her. lt was like Lili was a hot pack soothing my soul. But when that pack was removed it came back even stronger than before for your moment of contentment throws things into sharp relief. I visibly flinched muscles tensing as I remembered the sound of my uncles thin belt hitting my broad back so much like the crack of a whip. Remembered the feel of his fist hitting my face his rings cutting flesh. The feel of my face slamming into the ground, sharp rocks lacerating me as I failed to catch myself. Remembered the sight of his disgust as Kubali stood over my still frame. The sight of his disgust when I dared to show myself, I was nothing more than a filthy servant there only to do his will in his eyes, never to be seen never to be heard. A single tear rolled off my chin and my throat longed for the familiar bite of vodka, as it often did when I let my thoughts run rampant. I had thought she was as scared as the others, I was wrong.

She **is** different. I know the reason she returns, it is simple really. She comes time and time again because it is in her nature. Being so pure and so kind she can not stand to see others around her in pain of any kind without trying to offer some type of comfort. She negated her own safety and her osteomalacia eventually giving me her heart to save me from my loneliness. Like those golden flowers pushing thru the snow risking chill and hard frost to offer this Russian winter some sunshiny cheer. For this I Ivan am eternally thankful, and careful. For her well-being I will eternally rest in silent serenity.

A lonely colorless snow storm trying to spare the field of tiny golden flowers below.

Slowly it dies so that the flowers might live.

Holding to its frozen heart the memory of it's warmth and peace.


End file.
